


Self-Preservation

by skatzaa



Series: Carasynthia [2]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alderaan, Alderaan feels, But not in a bad way?, Cara makes a fool of herself, Gen, I don't even know what to tag this, Original Character(s), Post-Battle of Endor, Post-Mission, Pre-The Mandalorian, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: Cara's leave gets interrupted by General Organa.Oh, and did she mention that she yelled at the general for being a moron the last time they met? No? Well, she did.
Relationships: Cara Dune & Leia Organa
Series: Carasynthia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848388
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30
Collections: May the 4th Be With You Star Wars Fanworks Exchange 2020





	Self-Preservation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Irusu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irusu/gifts).



> I fear the summary makes this sound a lot more humorous or entertaining than it will turn out to be, but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> ETA (725/20): Linking this together with my other Cara fic, because they could, theoretically, exist in the same universe, and because I have more that I want to write for her.

Cara didn’t emerge from her bunk when Jastas called for someone to play him in dejarik. She didn’t even twitch when a wrestling match broke out over the outcome of a game. Didn’t bat an eyelash when Yetho and Vesit raced past, chasing after Jastas, who was laughing maniacally. Yetho yelled, _“Dune, help us!”_ as he passed. She just closed her eyes.

In fact, she was so entirely set on enjoying her day off that, when Old Man Ellec poked his head through the blackout curtains she’d traded seven guard duty shifts for, she didn’t even _look_ at him. Didn’t have to; she knew it was him with her eyes closed, because he was the only one capable of keeping his mouth shut for more than ten seconds at a time.

“Dune, will you—”

“Nope,” she said, popping the _p_ obnoxiously. To prove her point, she slunk lower against her regulation-thin pillow and tried to look more comfortable than she felt. Those pillows were shit. “Not interested, Old Man.”

Ellec _hmphed_ and withdrew, leaving Cara to her peace. She sighed contentedly, brought her arms up under her head to make up for the terrible pillow, and just… sat there. Relaxed, even. As much as she knew how to, at this point in her life.

No Imps to shoot here. No mud getting into her boots and worming its way between her toes. No orders to follow, or briefings to be blown to hell and back. No ridiculous, tiny princesses with the self-preservation instincts of a—

Outside her little nest, there was a clatter of dejarik cards hitting the tabletop. Cara resolutely did _not_ open her eyes.

Then: the squad leader called, “Drop Squadron Cherek, ten-HUT!”

Cara rolled out of bed, squinting through the light that was trying to stab at her eyes, and fell into line between Ellec and Commander Eshyn Dosheh, whose montrals had hit yet _another_ mid-life growth spurt and made her the tallest one in the room by far.

Dosheh pivoted to check the squad, but Cara wasn’t watching her. She was watching the woman standing just past Dosheh, looking even _more_ ridiculously tiny next to Dosheh’s bulk.

Princess Organa.

Or, General now, Cara supposed, but it was pretty hard to shake over twenty years of habit. Leia Organa had been Alderaan’s princess since the moment the Queen and Senator announced her adoption, and Cara didn’t think that would change any time soon, planet or no planet. 

Though, she hadn’t been prepared for how much of a pain in the _ass_ the princess would be. That was the last time she discounted Wedge’s stories, just because he was so drunk his Alderaani was slurring around the edges.

Princess—General—oh, fuck it, _Organa_ stepped forward as Dosheh stepped back, her hands clasped behind her back. To say she looked tired would be an understatement; the bags under her eyes looked like they might develop their own gravity wells any second now. Her gaze ran over each member of Cherek Squad, and she didn’t linger any longer on Cara than anyone else.

Probably for the best.

“Drop Squadron Cherek,” Organa began, “I apologize for interrupting your leave time, but I was afraid this would be the only instance where our schedules would overlap for some time.”

Her elbows shifted minutely, forward, then back—was she fidgeting? Cara wouldn’t believe it until she saw it for herself.

“I wished to thank you for your timely assistance on the mission. And for… performing so admirably with poor intel. I understand”—and here, her eyes darted so briefly towards Cara that she almost missed it—”that it was… less than ideal for any of us.”

Well damn, now Cara felt like an ass for yelling at it. To be fair, they’d been pinned behind a fallen AT-ST at the time, and it had _mostly_ been Organa’s fault, but still.

Organa gave a little duck of her head that could almost— _almost_ —be called nervous, spun on her heel, and left the dorm.

Every eye in the squad swung towards Cara.

“Wha–?” she tried, but gave up before she’d even finished. “Fine. I’ll go. _Talk_ to her.”

She left without waiting to be dismissed; Dosheh wasn’t a big stickler for protocol, most of the time, and the sooner Cara got this over with, the sooner she could go back to doing nothing. 

Organa was a rapidly retreating figure, hands still clasped behind her back as she walked. Cara kicked into a trot after her.

Once she’d gotten close enough that she wouldn’t be yelling, she reached out a hand and called, “Princess, wait!”

She realized her mistake a second too late, as Organa’s back stiffened and she froze mid-step. Cara slowed down as Organa spun around, looking rigid and full of distant, cold anger.

“The proper address is General, I believe,” she said, tone more clipped than before.

“Right. Sorry. General,” Cara said, not quite sure why she cared that Organa liked—or at least, didn’t hate—her, but caring all the same.

“What can I do for you, trooper?”

Cara didn’t shift her weight back and forth, because she probably had about twenty kilos on Organa in muscle alone, and she didn’t need to be acting like a chastened school child. She said, “I wanted to apologize for the way I handled the ambush yesterday. Ma’am,” she tacked on, half a beat later. “It was a high stress situation, but that’s no excuse.”

“Hmm.” Organa studied her for a moment. She seemed to have no issue tilting back her chin to look Cara in the eye, though it exposed her throat. But then, she’d have to do that with nearly everyone she encountered. The frosty anger thawed, somewhat. “I’ve been through my fair share of battles, so I believe I understand. Apology accepted.”

Battles weren’t necessarily the same as what shocktroopers dealt with regularly, and the ambush had actually been easy enough to deal with, but she wasn’t about to pick a fight over intel (again).

Organa began to turn away, only to pause and turn back. “Where are you from? And your name? I’m afraid I forgot it in all the excitement.”

“Cara Dune,” she said, and had a brief moment of existential panic over whether she was meant to offer her hand to shake. She decided against it. “I grew up in the uplands of Thon, before my family emigrated to Corellia.”

She saw the understanding dawn in Organa’s eyes, only for it to be overtaken by quiet grief a moment later.

Organa didn’t comment on her hair, kept close to her scalp out of a twisted sense of mourning; most Alderaanians did, one way or another. She didn’t ask, _did you have anyone on-planet when—;_ the survivors rarely did, because it was pointless. _Everyone’d_ had someone on-planet. Cara offered it anyway. “My fathers had moved back, and my little brother. I didn’t. I was—”

 _Tetherbrawling,_ she couldn’t say, when they died. When the whole planet died, and Princess Leia was withstanding Imperial torture or something similar, probably. Not even for money, just for fun. To prove that she could.

“Well,” Organa said, not waiting for the end to that sentence that would never come, “thank you, Trooper Dune. General Solo was very pleased when he heard that someone else had taken up the cause of yelling at me for being, quote, bantha-brained.”

She grinned up at Cara, and finally looked as young as she was.

Cara returned it with her own half smile. “Glad to be of service to the Alliance. Ma’am.”

Organa nodded once, much more decisively this time, and turned on her heel.

Cara watched her go with a growing sense of horror. Now there would be _two_ hot-headed generals with absolutely _no_ sense of self-preservation who knew her name. 

Great. She’d never be able to enjoy her leave again, she just knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe someday, I will actually manage to write the "Cara finds out about Alderaan's destruction" fic that I want to write so badly, but today is not that day (it almost was, but this idea was more willing to work with me as I was writing).
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
